Neon Genesis Tankgelion
by Charles Bhepin
Summary: The Dinochrome Brigade have never failed in their objective and each Bolo is ready to suffer and endure, to kill and die; for the purpose of their human makers. One Bolo however, must offer a... different... form of heroic sacrifice.


**Bolos**! are the property of Keith Laumer. Any other similarities or references are here for  
parody purposes only.

* * *

_I am awake._

_I am Bolo, Mark XVII/E of The Line, Unit 4141-BTN of the Dinochrome Brigade. I  
am six thousand six hundred tons of metal, might and machinery. I am... my  
chronometers have run dry. I have no idea how obsolete I have become. Since my  
internal gauge checks itself using elements with half-lives of billions of years, two  
possibilities come to me._

_The first, that of whatever manner brought me here, my chronometers have been  
tampered with for some reason. The second, is that I have outlived the observable  
universe. The latter conclusion is more unlikely._

_I am Bolo, Mark XVII/E of The Line. Or... I WAS a Mark XVII. Now I am unsure of  
what exactly I am, but my core remains the same. To be anything else is the road  
into madness._

_The stars above me conform to the patterns of Earth in my memory banks. Yet this  
is not the world I know, the stronghold of humanity. I lower my sight to the earth  
around me, and its aspects are terrestrial and familiar. Conifers and other  
evergreens are all around me, the tallest barely reaching half up my treads. The air  
is devoid of pollutants. The skies are clear of eletromagnetic signals._

_A Bolo does not like to be alone. I am a machine of war, and without my human  
commander or orders to follow, my existence is meaningless. Loneliness gives us  
time to ponder the things we ought not, and even the electronic brain may thus fall  
prey to the feral mind._

My memory is perfect. It is hard to disentangle myself from these past misgivings...

"DDDDOOOCCCKK IIIIIIIINN!"

Instantly, my command hatch opens up. I spy something being launched from an  
bunker behind me, one disguised as a hill. Trees and terrain features have retracted  
to allow a tube to extend. From this, something I recognize as a modified drop pod  
fliesoff, spinning in the air like a drill.

I guide it in via electromagnetic fields. Though it is made of durachrome, I have no  
illusions about what would happen if it should miss and strike my hull. Yet they  
insist on doing this every damn time. I have a lower hatch. I have stairs. The  
docking procedure was supposed to be for emergency ingress, not a ceremonial  
event.

I am Bolo. I do not question my commander, or the doctrines of their commanders.

My commander is a thirteen-year old boy named Daisuke Hoshino.

The drop pod slides into an open tunnel within me, its velocity slowly bleeding off  
through my magnetic brakes; as a reverse rail launcher. If necessary, I may launch  
it back up withthe same method. I slam shut armor layers behind it.

The drop pod slams into a stop. Its bottom opens, and deposits my commander into  
my command deck.

"Gattai complete!" Daisuke crows out.

The main screen shows communications from the underground Ganriki Labs. There  
is the white-haired, big-moustached face of Dr. Naniyo, who I understand is  
responsible for finding and rebuilding me. He is, by all measure, a genius that  
defies even my comprehension.

"Excellent. The Army can't delay the enemy for much longer. You're our only hope."

It fills me with awe every time about how those soldiers were so willing to throw  
their lives and equipment into an ultimately futile battle just to buy us time to get  
my commander out of school and suited up. Truly, humanity is full of heroism. I am  
a Bolo. I will not insult the beings that created me, maintain me, and depend upon  
me. They have the right to be illogical if they feel like it. The manner in which they  
live or end their own lives is their own choice. I do not have such a luxury, nor do I  
wish to have it. Freedom, in face of a vast uncaring universe, may be a frightening  
thing. I have my purpose; my makers made me with my nirvana within.

"I won't fail you professor! Here we go! Tankgelion, heading out!"

I am Bolo.

"But... it doesn't sound SUPER enough." my commander complains. "A SUPER-cool  
tank like you DESERVES a SUPER-name." He pauses. Then he stands up on the  
command chair and lifts his right fist up. "UBERPANZERWUNDERMEISTAAAAH!"

Tankgelion is fine. Let us go.

"Yosh!"

_I do not know how I have come to be in this place. The last thing I remember of my  
proper time is the primary diagnostic at the factory._

_Then, Daisuke asking... begging for me to wake up._

_I sent my awareness out, and saw creatures destroying cities, human lives. I beheld  
no tactical significance to their movements, preferring to stomp and smash civilians  
over the several strategically-important targets that I discerned only a  
short distance away._

_I am Bolo. I do not know fear. Now I know rage. I learned it then, and I learned it  
well. Hellbore and howitzer, missile and mortar, and all the enemies of man under  
my sight shall burn in cleansing flame. They were cybernetic beings, surprisingly  
sophisticated, yet they were as nothing to me. I am Bolo! My laughter is in my  
infinite repeaters. Daisuke's tears were on my control panel._

_This bothers me, which in itself indicates a possible instability already inherent in  
my matrix. I am the first of E series, an experimental design using the basic Mark  
XVII hull. My primary duty is Interdiction, and for that my primary weapons have  
been upgraded at sacrfice of my secondary defense. I am entirely experimental, in  
both manufacture and methods._

_I am the first Bolo that I know of that has mounted dual 60cm Hellbores in a turret.  
The Mark XVII carries only one, and having two allows me to increase my volume of  
fire through alternating the barrels or simply firing both at a single target. The  
mechanical demands of this design comes at the price of reducing the six 25cm  
Howitzers of the Mark XVII to merely two, leaving me little in the way of non line-  
of-sight weaponry. A second and smaller center-mount turret contains a 30cm  
Heavy Rail cannon, which while powerful and reliable cannot make up for the  
missing four howitzers. I have instead four smaller 20cm Heavy Repeaters on my  
sides. These too are anti-armor weapons, and not well suited to engaging distances  
beyond four kilometers._

_My Infinite Repeaters have been increased from fifteen to eighteen, which gives me  
some comfort. These ion-bolt guns, while weak, are actually of more use to me in  
defending humanity. There is very little my Hellbores or Howitzers cannot destroy,  
and unfortunately my allies are among those things. Small, mass-produced armored  
fighting vehicles and missile swarms kill more humans than other weapons of my  
size. I am a Bolo, and I have accounts of other Bolos. I am as a sword, but it  
gratifies me that I may act as a shield. My durachrome protects me that I might  
protect others._

_However, the best defense is a good offense, so the humans know well. My  
weapons are powerful but line-of-sight in effect, it is a good thing therefore that I  
can see very well indeed. I am somewhat shorter than my predecessor, though  
taller and wider. I do not know why I was not simply called the Mark Eighteen, but  
my increased mobility does make me more suited to quick assaults._

_I have VLS missile cells, one hundred of them, which I may use to strike at a  
distance with impunity. However, I am loathe to use up irreplaceable ammunition if  
I do not have to. I wonder if I have been programmed to value logistics... or  
economics? Value is a human decision, that I may only emulate to some extent. _

_I am a Bolo Mark XVII/E of the Line._

_I am NOT a Bolo Mark XVII/E of the Line._

_The conflict paralyzed me. I have several unknown weapons systems grafted into  
me. My reactors have been replaced entirely. My armor is encased in a micron-thin  
sheath of energy, bonded to the metal itself, and separate from my own  
battlescreens. My battlescreens seemed to have been reinforced MASSIVELY. I run  
the permutations. My battlescreens have several modes of operation._

_I remember Daisuke screaming that the enemy flying battleship is getting away._

_I snapped my Hellbores at it. My attack splashed harmlessly against its energy  
shield, a true suprise. Never have I heard of anything that could withstand two  
simultaneous shots from a Bolo. It moved with surprising speed, for a thing that is  
star-shaped and with no visible means of propulsion. My main cannons were direct  
line of sight weapons, soon it will be out of range._

_I scanned my memory banks. Dr. Naniyo has given me the codename Bahamut  
Metallia. Wings. I have six of them. I flared my shields into alternate movement  
mode, and rise into the air. Daisuke was screaming something about his mother._

_"BAHAMUT BEEEEEEMU!"_

_I roar._

Then and now. The enemy is still at the distance. My main cannons clink together  
and let out a combined concentrated beam. This makes no sense. My hellbores  
should not become wider as they leave the barrel. I detect a 25% increase in  
output as Daisuke yells. How...?

Screw it. I have discarded worrying about my vocabulary. Just die already, you  
god-damned monsters. I do not vocalize my commentary, for the sake of my  
commander.

The enemy falls.

I rake at the enemy, be it one battleship or a swarm of flying cyberdemons. This  
time, the _Dodjukolos_ battlemover remains at a respectful distance. It knows the  
folly of trading main cannon shots with me. It has already released three _Ilakdau_  
cybersteeds at high speed close to the horizon. I cannot let them reach the city,  
where I am all but inutile.

These cybersteeds are fast, shielded, and armed with a lance-cannon. They start to  
separate, knowing I have but one main cannon turret, and my howitzers can only  
destroy one more. That leaves one to make that final sprint towards safety, where  
it may snipe at me with impunity.

I spear one with my hellbores. My howitzers pound another to scrap. The third, out  
on the far left, boosts frantically. They use some form of repulsor-lift system, that  
pushes against the ground. My mortars and rail cannon blast the ground in front of  
it, and its momentary dip slows it enough that my howitzers can then rain upon it.

The engagement takes 4.58 seconds. Daisuke comments that it's too slow. I seem to  
be blessed with a commander that can think as fast as I do, or at least perceive the  
events as they happen in a manner that predicts what I would do. Sometimes, he may  
even go into true precognition, with a response time going into the negative. This  
unsettling synchronization is what makes the boy the only person truly capable of  
fighting with me and using me.

I launch my missile battery, and I do not know why. Daisuke has direct control over  
my systems, capable of overriding me. This comforts me, that I cannot do rogue so  
very easily. The enemy had once attempted to manipulate me before, using viral  
attacks that are literally, viruses. A cloud of nanomachinery infesting my systems. My  
link to my commander allowed me to purge the invasion.

I see. A dimensional rift above me. Cyberharpies form the enemy's fighter-bomber role.  
My battlescreens are powerful, but sufficient swarm attacks CAN bring them down. My  
infinite repeaters can only target one enemy for each mount, sequentially. My missiles  
however, have enough submunitions to take out hundreds all at once.

"Take that! BURNING NEEDLE MISSILE!"

The submunitions are pellets, Daisuke, not needles. Though I suppose it does appear  
that way, like threads of fire, if seen from ground-level.

The dimensional rift remains open.

Something massive emerges.

"_**I AM LACUJIURINA, BEAST OF THE STARMIND.**_" the enemy introduces itself. It appears  
to me in the form of a humanoid bull, at least half my size. Two cannons protrude from  
its back, hellbore-equivalents. It wields a massive hammer.

"_**I AM BAHAMUT METALLIA, BOLO OF THE LINE.**_" I send out.

"_**AND NOW, YOU DIE.**_" we say together.

The enemy's technology surpasses ours. Their weapons are compact and supremely  
efficient, if they simply did not mount them on such inefficient frames. However, the  
cybernetic creatures do have unsurpassed mobility, shielding, and if they can get close  
enough may take great advantage of my blind spots.

The cyberdemon's Hellbringer splashes against my forward shields. Then against my  
side battlescreens. Its refire rate is approximately double mine. My main turret turns  
slower than it can move. I have destroyed so many of the enemy, that they now have  
sufficient tactical knowledge about what I can do.

But I will not be beaten so simply. It is circling around me, tracing a tightening spiral.  
I move forward, disrupting its pattern. I wait for it to come under my forward arc, and  
I fire. My Hellbores meet its Hellbringers, and the beams mutually annihilate, creating a  
massive explosion that shorts out my sensors.

The enemy flies through, and is upon me. Its hammer passes through my battlescreen  
and slams into my hull. The sound reverberates within me. My commander winces and  
put his palms over his ears.

The enemy is clinging to my front hull, UNDER my cannons. I cannot aim at it. I settle  
for smacking it with my barrels. Up. Down. Up. Down. Wham. Wham. Wham.

It screeches, and slides down, its clawed hands etching into my durachrome. It is low  
enough that I may put my guns right at its face. Fear. My hellbores have a diameter  
about the size of its head.

I fire.

The enemy ducks and pushes forward. It is once again under my cannons, and I may  
not dip my guns any lower. I lift and turn my guns away. My mortars and howitzers fire  
vertically. The shells land upon the enemy and upon me. My front armor holds. The  
enemy's shields do not. It slides further down, and I crush it beneath my treads as I  
continue to move forward.

I now bring my attention to the dimensional rift. They are opened and maintained from  
the other side, and so far we do not know how to open or close them. My commander  
and I relish the thought of going in and atacking the enemy at its own stronghold, but  
we have no idea on how we could get back after we have finished reducing it to rubble.

A strange purple light issues forth.

I sense the enemy behind me getting up again. It is theorized that the enemy is not  
one creature but more like a nanomachine colony. Why something with such access to  
near infinite resources and armies would even bother to attack a single planet, Earth...  
and more so a single city, Kobe, is... unknown. Illogical, even, but the enemy must  
have a reason that makes sense to it. We stand between it and what it desires, and  
so far we have been winning.

"It's reviving!" Daisuke exclaims. "That's cheating!"

Reviving, in this context, usually involves the enemy growing larger and more powerful  
from an externally-applied energy source. Why the enemy does not just send it out  
at full power... or send TWO... is beyond my understanding. I do not comprehend  
incompetent moron. Usually however, the enemy becomes a magnitude greater in  
threat level.

I do not give it time. I go into full reverse, I snap my wings open, I turn my turrets  
back. Ramming speed.

"TAKE THIS! **HYPER ATTACK! SUPER GRAVITY DRAGON BURST SLASH**!"

A glowing blade snaps out of my rear armor face, switchblade-like. My entire hull starts  
to shine. I lead off with burst from my Hellbores. This is to stagger the enemy. I swoop  
forward, surging with impossible speed. My shield crackles with energy. Instead of just  
simply shooting at an enemy with my main guns, I turn my entire body into one massive  
attack. My sheer mass, my velocity, plus the energy that would have gone into the  
guns pumped into one single point... my entire **-being-** devoted to slaying the enemy.

It has nothing to do with gravity, dragons, or bursting. And it is a piercing, not slashing,  
attack.

At least my commander had learned to give speeches until AFTER hitting the enemy  
with the Finishing Move.

Thou, my enemy. From hell's heart, I stab at thee.

It is so bright. I cannot see. The enemy ceases to be. I keep going. What is this  
feeling? How can a Bolo even truly -feel-?

I punch through a mountain. I am now over the ocean.

I sink immidiately.

"Ugh!" My commander groans out. How many times must I remind you? My seatbelts  
are there for a reason. "Yeah, yeah. What about the aliens? Launch one of your ten  
thousand eyes, Shin Getter Bolo!"

Please make up your mind on what to call me. And I only have eight thousand five  
hundred drones. I launch one.

The enemy is retreating. Slowly but surely, we are losing. There is no other being such  
as me in this world. And if there is, then it will be something the enemy will have made.  
But Daisuke and I are not afraid. Our will is strong. We will prevail.

The comm window bleeps and opens up. It is Daisuke's childhood friend, Miyako, and  
the only daughter of Dr. Naniyo. "Daisuuuke! You ruined Mount Asaya!"

Do not dare to blame this upon me, commander.

"Why do you have to nag me all the time, Miya-chan? Oh, hi, Raka!" He waves to  
another girl onscreen, taller and with improbable long pink hair and as I understand it,  
generous proportions. "Did you see that? How coool was that?"

"It was impressive, Hoshino-san." she replies.

"Hey! Don't encourage him!" Miyako shouts out to her own best friend. "He needs to  
learn some restraint! This isn't a game...! And you! Remember you promised that we'll  
study tonight. You can't keep on slacking off your schoolwork. This is for your own  
good, you know."

"Sheesh. You're such a bossy woman. Whatever you say, Miya-chan." He shuts off the  
link. "Hey, BossBattler B, what do you think I should do? Aah, so troublesome."

I am Bolo. I am relieved that I do not have to deal with a tsundere. I cannot help you  
in this matter, commander. Though you may hide out in my hull again, if you really fear  
for your life.

I attempt to float, as not to disturb the ecology any further. I seem to have grown  
used to the situation. I do not know how long it will remain this way. However, as long  
as there is an enemy to fight, and humanity to defend, then I shall not falter in my  
purpose. I shall allow Daisuke to compose my theme song.

* * *

::points up::

Again, please note the _parody_ disclaimer. ;) No Bolos were harmed in the production of this fic. Well, not much, at least.

Also, remember that this is in **Misc./** **Misc. Books**, being that there isn't a category for _**Bolo**_ fanfic. It is **not a crossover**. It is _**not** _an Evangelion fanfic (or I would have said so otherwise). It's a parody of the entire Super Robot genre, including the deconstruction given by Eva; but even so only tangentially. Google Neon Genesis Tankgelion to see the silly flash movie that inspired me to write this thing.


End file.
